


Renard

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's Grimm-log details his encounters with Wesen, but this one he might just be hiding from future view. Because if his Captain gets hold of this, Nick's a dead man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grimm Log - Fox

For the last four years my life has been crazy. I’m a Grimm. Apparently this is what I can look forward to for the rest of my life.

So. Crazy, but I was just starting to get a good bead on things when this happened.

Juliette left me.

And I woke up one morning, and my Captain was a fox.

Juliette leaving me was bad. But the fox…

How did I know it was Renard? The eyes. The Captain’s eyes were looking at me. Which was more than a little creepy. Anyway, it took me a little time to figure that out, so he convinced me.

He grabbed my pants’ leg, and dragged me out to the yard, where he laboriously and messily spelt out his name in the dirt in one of the flowerbeds. And no it was not my fault I thought he was doing something entirely different.

Leaving out how a six foot four, one hundred ninety pound man can turn into a two foot tall nineteen pound canid, and how it was my unfortunate luck to find him in this condition, the real question is what can I do about it? Because this… this is beyond weird. 

My boss is a fox. And he’s following me.

So, if he’s going to be dragging around after me until we figure this out there have to be some ground rules right.

I put him on the back seat of my truck. I swear every time I even dabbed at the brakes he fell off into the footwell. He kept giving me these looks, the last time he put his ears back and hissed at me. My driving is not bad, whatever anyone says.

(I am arguing with a fox. I think I need to lie down.)

So I put him on the front seat. He curled up, and eyed me warily, his ears were still back so I decided to ignore him and just get to the Spice Shop.

It was an accident. I swear. He just slid off the seat, there was some comedy leg waggling and he fell in the footwell with a thump. So by now his ears are flat to his head, his eyes are sparking (I thought he was going to woge, and how weird would that be), but he hissed and then yipped at me. And I am going to have to hide this journal because if the Captain ever reads this, I am a dead man.

All the time I was driving I kept thinking about what would happen if we somehow got separated. I had a suspicion that scenario would not be good. So, if he can’t tell people who he ‘belongs’ to, I’m going to have to find another way to do it.

He looked confused as I carried him into the pet shop, but there was no way I was leaving him in the truck (I saw that look, he would have tried to sabotage it), and I had no idea of his size, because we were looking for a collar.

So we found a bunch of collars, but he kept giving me the stink-eye, and I figured that I wanted to somehow keep him on the seat without dumping him in the footwell every time I braked, because damn that hissing noise is really creepy and his eyes were warning all kinds of things that I know I am not going to like… so. Harness.

He grumped a bit when I put it on. But I ignored it.

When I went up to the cash desk to pay for it, I got into a conversation with the clerk. She was a petite, pretty brunette with an accent, Russian I think.

I never see my Captain flirt, except this one time with the maid when we were dealing with the Koschey case. Clearly Russians do it for Renard, because he was all squirmy, and cute and kinda nauseating, and when she stroked him he started to purr.

Which may have influenced me when I got an ID disk made for him. I put my cell number on there, and my name, and then when Natasha asked for his name, I said the first thing that came into my head. Renard.

So I left the shop with a fox called Renard tucked under my arm. I had made two extra purchases beside the harness and tag, the first one I was pretty sure he was going to approve of… the second… well we would cross that bridge when we come to it.

The first extra was a small strap and clip arrangement that attached to his harness and the seat belt. He eyed me warily, sniffed and lay down.

So far so good.

As next time I hit the brakes he didn’t fall off the seat, and the look on his furry face was what you might even call approval, I figured I had a bonus point for that one.

The next one. Not so much. We arrived at the Spice Shop. I was not going to carry him everywhere. We were in public and I wasn’t about to take a chance that some nut job might want to kill him just because he’s a fox.

He glared at me balefully when I clipped the leash on. I set him down on the pavement, good thing I had the loop wrapped around my wrist because he lunged backwards and began to struggle. Well Miss Natasha had fitted that harness really well and there was no way he was squirming out of it. Not that that stopped him. He fought and struggled, and when that didn’t work he sat down hard and began to yip at me angrily.

He was really pissed. So I turned around and headed towards the shop. I’m me, and he’s a nineteen pound fox, what can he do?

There was resistance, I didn’t look back, I assumed he was still sitting down and I was dragging him. I just ignored him and kept walking, right through the door. Which was where the resistance and my forward motion came to an abrupt halt.

Renard had grabbed the door frame with his teeth. I have no idea what he thought he was doing, I tugged. He glared at me but wouldn’t let go of the door frame. This went on for a minute or two until Rosalee appeared to find out what all the commotion was.

(I was shouting. I admit it… but the circumstances…)

Renard let go of the door frame and literally flung himself into her arms. So Rosalee’s down on the floor cuddling him, and stroking him, and he’s all squirmy again, and he’s purring and I swear I am going to throw up because this is nauseating.

Rosalee reads the tag, and her sympathy is all for Renard. He gets the comfy seat, and I’m banished to the wooden chair. She sends Monroe out for a chicken sandwich, I’m hungry too, but it’s not for me.

Renard throws me this smug look of triumph that I’ve seen on his human face a time or two, and curls up on Rosalee’s love seat, while she strokes him and searches through her books for a cure.

And I have the horrible feeling that this is nowhere near the end of it.


	2. Flea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has a very trying morning. So does Renard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No foxes were harmed in the making of this story.

My life has become extra complicated.

Renard is still a fox.

Rosalee and Monroe have not found a cure yet, although they are on the case. Hank has suggested contacting the Captain’s mother. Although whether that is to help Sean, or because Hank is attracted to Elizabeth is another matter. I prefer not to think about it. Hank’s track-record with hexenbiester is something we best sweep under the carpet.

This is just the tip of the iceberg.

So, Renard’s a fox, and we have to find a way to cover for him. We have to tell Hank, and Wu. Hank because he’s my partner and the sudden appearance of a fox in my life is way too difficult to explain. Wu, because Wu is like Rabbit. He’s good and wise and he’s the Sergeant, so he knows where all the bodies are buried.

And only he can hack into the Captain’s email and quickly arrange cover for him, and ‘explain’ he’s dealing with urgent family matters.

Renard is living with me. Which brought about a whole new set of difficulties and complications that I previously never thought of.

But then, I never thought I would be sharing the house with my Captain, who’s a fox!

The Captain has expensive tastes. Just because he’s a fox, doesn’t mean that you get to palm him off with any old dog food you happen to buy at the store. I am not much of a cook, eggs, the odd chili, one or two other staple items. 

The dog food got me the stink-eye big time. He sat down and yipped angrily at me again. I have several cans in the cupboard, if anything his yips got angrier when I pulled out the can opener. I put it away.

I had the ground beef, and I know how to make chili.

So I made chili.

Now I have seen the Captain eat. He’s the last word in cultured and fastidious. Renard the fox… he practically dived head first into the bowl when I put it on the floor, table manners went out of the window, he inhaled, he kept looking up for more cheese, and more nachos, and more of just about everything. When he had finished stuffing himself until his belly bulged he lay on his side on the kitchen floor and belched.

It was loud, and disgusting and accompanied by the most noxious fart I have ever smelled.

I hurriedly opened the windows as Renard lay there in an apparent food coma and made secondary slightly abdominal sounds and twitched his tail.

Having discovered this hitherto unknown fox fact, they will eat chili until they fall over, I discovered another uncomfortable fox fact. If you give house room to one, they want to sleep in your bed.

If you banish them from your bed, they sit outside your bedroom door and make mournful wailing noises vaguely reminiscent of something dying. It’s painful. And before it woke the neighbours and I had police officers on my doorstep, I let him back inside.

He slunk in, slid beneath the quilt and curled up right against me. I don’t know why he didn’t just choose Juliette’s side of the bed, after all it was empty, but he preferred to press himself up against my chest and curl up into a tight little ball.

It was oddly comforting.

Naturally, his presence in my and Juliette’s bed was discovered by the lady herself.

She came round for more of her belongings. I was barely out of bed, making breakfast, and I had completely forgotten about Renard. Juliette gave me a sharp lecture about letting the place go to wrack and ruin, which I think was a bit harsh, I haven’t had a day to myself to straighten up or hire a maid, but it’s not that bad.

Anyway, she tramps upstairs in a less than stellar mood, which changes when she hits the bedroom.

The next thing I hear this shriek of outrage, and a very startled yip.

“NICK!! What the hell!?”

I race upstairs, Juliette’s standing in the bedroom doorway. Renard is dangling by his scruff from one hand, and she is raging. “How could you, Nick? A fox? They’re full of fleas… in our bed… disgusting.”

She’s ranting and raging and Renard actually looks terrified as well as really really pissed.

Then she does it, she reaches into her bag, pulls out a can of flea spray, you can tell she’s done this a time or two, and she squirts him all over with the stuff. He’s wriggling like a worm on a hook, and he snaps a couple of times in mid air to no effect.

She shrouds him twice in spray and then she drops him, he backs away, snapping a couple more times, then skips past me and legs it down the stairs like the hounds of hell, or possibly hexenbiester are after him.

So Juliette gathers up more of her belongings, giving me chapter and verse about how having him in the house is unhealthy and he’s probably carrying diseases and she hates foxes because one killed her pet rabbit when she was six, which given that one of her best friends is a Fuchsbau is a little hard to get over… and I am standing there literally torn between answering her, the woman of my dreams, and going downstairs to check on Renard. I doubt she hurt him, but he took off like a rocket and he is still my Captain.

Juliette stamped downstairs, me following, I just caught a glimpse of a brush as he hid beneath the coffee table as she passed.

After she was gone, I coaxed him out with some scrambled eggs, and he sat on the floor and watched me. It didn’t escape my notice that he kept glancing nervously behind him towards the front door, and that he would occasionally raise a front paw which was actually shaking.

Matters were not improved when we arrived at the precinct. We’d barely sat down, when Adalind waltzed in.

Renard growled. And he lunged. Luckily I had had the foresight to secure him to a leg of my desk, so he didn’t reach.

Adalind paused and gave us all a frosty look. Renard glared at her and then slunk beneath my desk making strange muttering sort of noises to himself.

She marched off with her head held high, after making a few mutterings of her own. Mostly unflattering.

More than a little traumatic start to the day.


	3. Getting Serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not improving, and Nick makes a little discovery.

We are now four days into this nightmare, and so far no one has been able to cure Renard.

This is getting very serious.

Last night, Renard chased and caught a beetle, then ate it. The idea of my Captain eating a large bug was quite amusing, until Rosalee pointed out that the longer the Captain’s a fox, the more he is going to lose his human traits, and become more fox-like. Soon he will have forgotten he was ever Captain Sean Renard.

Now I am scared for him, because whatever our personal squabbles and differences, the fact remains he’s a decent, honest senior officer who has done a lot for me personally as a detective. In fact he’s done a lot on the q.t. for quite a few of his men and women, leaving out all the wesen/royal stuff, he’s good for the department, and good for Portland, and yes that does include me personally.

Up until then, the thought of actually losing Sean never really entered my head. He’s tough and durable, and a half-zauberbiest with an agenda, and it just never occurred to me that someone had done this to him and he might never change back. I was surprised how much the idea hurt.

I thought about it. Thought about what it would be like if we had one of the other wholly human Captains as a senior officer. The few times Renard has been away, we’ve had other Captains stand in, and it’s been difficult. Once I even came close to suspension because the case was wesen and I had to lie about things.

This would be like the Captain died. I know that most of the precinct would mourn him, especially those who weren’t in the know. And what about the people who did know? Hank and Wu, and myself, possibly other wesen officers, how would we feel knowing that he wasn’t really dead, just gone from our reach?

He’d been sleeping with me every night since the flea spray debacle, and every night he’d crawled into bed right beside me and curled up against my chest. I’d thought he’d been doing that to be a bit of a dick and making a point, a kind of a trade off from the daytime humiliations of wearing a harness, submitting to a leash and just being treated like an animal.

Now it occurs to me that he’s scared, and he’s taking comfort where he can get it. Even if that means cuddling up to his obtuse Grimm junior detective.

He slinks under the covers, and curls up against me again. Instead of ignoring him, I put my arms around him.

Shit.

He actually shrinks against me, he’s shivering, and those big green eyes are blinking at me. He wraps his brush more firmly over his nose, and pushes right up into my embrace. Even to me it’s clear he’s terrified.

All I can do is lie there, cuddle him and tell him a whole lot of nonsense which we both know is bs. If we can’t fix him, he’s going to be a fox for the rest of his life, however long that might be, and I suspect it won’t be that long, foxes have a lifespan of about three or four years, ten in exceptionally favourable circumstances. And Renard’s a man in his forties. So whoever cursed him knows that.

Okay so the cuddling thing is a little strange, he gives me this really weird look when I stroke his fur, and I figure that Renard’s experiences with physical affection might be a tad bit limited, and it was distinctly out of left-field when he was flirting with the young Russian maid, so maybe he’s wondering what the hell I’m doing. But then he starts to purr softly and that’s very nearly my undoing.

He’s trusting me, and somehow I am going to help him.

Knowing Adalind like I do, she has to have had a hand in this. Or she likely knows someone that does.

I rub his ears, which he really seems to like, “in the morning, we’re going to see Adalind.” He gives me this nervous look. “Since she’s probably behind this, we have to start somewhere.” The look goes from nervous to skeptical, so he’s a fox, but he has a very expressive face.

I close my eyes, because I am wiped out, and fall asleep to Renard’s gentle purring.

In the morning, I can’t find my car keys. Which is strange, because I am sure I put them on the table in the hallway where I normally do. I have to call Hank to come and get us. I tell Hank about my missing keys, and he exchanges a look with Renard.

Huh?

Anyway, Renard practically bounds into Hank’s back seat, and curls up, looking smug. I was a little confused about the smug expression, but whatever, we have other problems. So Hank brings up contacting Renard’s mother and this time I agree, because last night’s thoughts scared me.

And I cannot begin to imagine what we would tell her if we left this any longer and Renard got stuck.

That would not be good.


	4. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renard's mother arrives, Nick makes a small discovery

Things are finally moving. I don’t know where or how exactly, but they are moving.

Hank called Renard’s mother, Elizabeth Lascelles. Of course she came at once, now she’s with Rosalee and Monroe and they are all working on a cure for Renard.

For the first time in three days I am actually feeling optimistic.

If only I could find my car keys. And that’s not all that’s missing. Rosalee is missing a silver chain, Monroe a clock key, antique, German, 1889, (as he keeps telling me), Hank’s lucky silver keyring with the four leaf clover on it, that’s gone, Wu had this big silver clip on his desk where he keeps all his messages, just disappeared. 

And it turns out Ms Adalind Schade is missing her cell phone, with all her important contacts on it, and her calendar. I kept my mouth shut with difficulty, and let Wu handle that one. Hank declined to be involved.

Adalind got slightly hysterical.

I may have suggested she dial 1-800-B.E.T.R.A.Y.A.L. which was (of course) when Morrison appeared.

The one Captain I was praying we didn’t have on rotation. He hates me. The feeling’s mutual, and he’s not over fond of our boss either. Renard’s taller than him, better looking, smarter, more cultured… need I go on?

Renard hides under my desk. Curls up into the cat basket that Wu bought him.

When we get the Captain back, we are going to have to do a major sweep of this place, and my place, because he’s not going to be too happy about reminders that he’s been a fox for the better part of a week.

It does occur to me that Adalind has seen Renard twice now, and there hasn’t been a flicker of anything that looks like triumph. Hints of disgust, like Juliette, but nothing that says she knows the fox in the cat basket under my desk was a certain tall, dark, handsome Captain last week.

It’s when I get up to go get another coffee, I glance back, and this pair of sad, green-gold eyes are peering at me over the red brush which is wrapped around his nose.

I think things are moving on, but for Renard they must seem to be standing still. He’s scared. He probably has every right to be. Just because he’s my captain, and I don’t always show him much trust, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.

I feel like a complete heel. I am carrying on with my life, and my boss is a fox.

So, another day goes by, and it’s only when we’re all back at my place that I get a little clue to the missing things. I was getting a beer out of the fridge for Hank, because we’re still studying the books in the hope of finding the exact solution to this, when I happen to turn at the exact moment I see Renard slipping out of the kitchen window.

He’s a fox, I don’t think I really need to draw a picture here.

He lands in the flower bed, and half turns, I catch a flash of something shiny in his jaws, and then he’s gone, trotting around the side of the house for a bit of privacy.

I don’t really think anything of it, he comes back after about fifteen minutes and slinks under the coffee table until he can curl up right next to Rosalee.

When we’re all together, Renard usually chooses to be right next to Rosalee. I don’t know if it’s because she’s a fox-wesen, or because the Captain does have some fairly warm and friendly feelings for Rosalee specifically, they’d never admit it, but they’re friends. He went to Vienna, and she was the only one he would contact. Even Monroe was surprised by that.

So anyway, I had expected him to curl up next to his mother. He’d passed her and acknowledged her presence, but it was Rosalee he went to, which caused her to blush a little, and stroke his fur.

I figure he’s trying for normal in a world which is far from normal for him.

It’s as we are packing up for the night that Rosalee notices her little silver pen is missing, and I recall the silver shiny thing in Renard’s jaws. I give him a glare and he doesn’t meet my eyes, but slinks up the stairs.

I thought he would join his mother for the night, but through the open door I could just see the tip of his brush under the covers, I turned to Elizabeth.

She had that knowing smile on her face, “Nick, he feels comfortable and safe with you.” She pats me on the shoulder, and disappears into my spare room.

I get ready for bed, knowing that we are running out of time, and whatever they are going to do, for Renard they are going to have to do it quick, or he’s all done.

I climb into bed, and before long there’s a familiar, warm, soft presence squished up to my chest. As I fall asleep, it’s in the back of my mind that I need to go and investigate what I saw last night.

[][][][][]

Bright and early next morning, I set out on my little voyage of exploration. The ground was damp because it rained, and there are little fox paw prints everywhere. They seem to lead to a place under the house.

I hate that crawlspace, the raccoons love it, and like to drag the stuff from the bins that they raid under there. Though having Renard about, I might have finally seen off the raccoons.

It’s dark, so I have a flashlight, which throws up some strange shadows, so it takes me a little while to figure out what I am seeing.

Then I get this big lump in my throat, and it feels like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.

He’s made himself a sort of nest. There’s this little hollow which he must have dug, and there are all these little heaps around it, shiny things in each one, the keys, Hank’s key ring, the clock key, the clip, Rosalee’s pen. It’s all here. It’s like he’s surrounded himself with things from all the people he’s close to. He hasn’t really got a family, just Elizabeth, so we’re probably the only thing he’s really got that’s like a family. So he’s got all this stuff which he’s gathered, and he’s buried each thing in a separate shallow hole.

He’s keeping a little piece of each of us.

My eyes are burning, and everything is really blurry, and know what? If taking these things gives him some comfort, because right now things aren’t going all that well, so be it.

I can live without my car keys.


End file.
